


AND

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s03e16 Apocrypha, Episode: s04e09 Terma, Episode: s05e14 The Red and the Black, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: In a closely-related-but-not-quite-sequel to Physics, Krycek and Mulder do a little musing on their whatever-it-is. Warning: Songfic. I can't help it. They just speak to me!
Collections: TER/MA





	AND

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> Rating: R for language Feedback: Any and all kinds appreciated Warning: Songfic. I can't help it. They just speak to me! Spoilers: Apocrypha, Terma, The Red and the Black— just assume all Krycekisodes to be on the safe side. Disclaimers: The Boys belong to CC, 1013, Fox etc. The song ""And"" written by the Headstones (Hugh Dillon, Trent Carr, Tim White, and Dale Harrison) [Copyright 1996 Universal Music.] No profit comes from this venture, I swear. I'm just a fan—a poor unemployed fan. Notes: Deb is a fine first audience, and Nicole is a fine beta. Both are wonderful friends. Thanks, sweeties! :-)

  
**AND  
by Amy B**

  
_Can we piece it together  
Simply want it to work   
Right where it's severed   
And we can conserve   
Well it holds down neatly   
Everything that it serves   
It belongs to us now   
No longer need to be nursed _

After a life lived on the razor's edge, this is the most dangerous thing I have ever attempted. It's the one thing that will cut deepest if I slip. This man is not my friend. He never has been. He has been my target, victim, co-conspirator, attacker, savior, betrayer, sexual conquest, and more... as I have been his. But never friend. Is it possible he could make the leap to being a lover without being a friend first? Of course, every person I've had sex with hasn't been a lover, but I think he could be. All or nothing with him. He fights for truth, justice, and the American way, never realizing there's no such thing. He would approach an intimate relationship the same way. No fuck buddies for him. No, it would be big and meaningful and Important. 

So if it's such a huge risk to my health, safety, and well being, why am I here? He's irresistible. I am drawn to him like iron to a magnet. I want to work it out so that we can be superheroes and save the world, but I'm also thinking about working out some sort of relationship. Is it selfish to give a personal relationship the same attention as the rebellion? What good would it do to save mankind and yet lose this one? Do I have delusions of grandeur? It's a distinct possibility, but if it gives me the courage and confidence to do what I need to, who am I to argue? 

Am I in love with him? I have no idea, because I'm not even sure what love is. I understand pleasure, fear, pain, survival...love is a cypher, a secret code that I haven't cracked yet. Maybe I will some day. He might be the key. 

Maybe I should ask him what he wants? What does he expect to get from our liaison? Sex and the possible myth called love? Forgiveness? Retribution? Does he know and would he tell me? Do I really want to know? If I know what he wants, I'll just be more aware of my failure to provide it. 

_Let's not find the weakness  
Hit the bruise   
What good would it do? _

Would there be any point in dredging up all the actions that require resolution from either of us? I hurt him, he hurt me. I betrayed him, he hit me. He _thought_ I betrayed him, he hit me. I tried to help him, he hit me. I gave him information, he hit me. I let him. There's a disturbing pattern forming. Then one night I jumped him, took his gun, and kissed him. He didn't hit me anymore after that. He might try it again sometime, but I doubt it. I don't think I'd let him get away with it anymore either. I'm stronger than I used to be. Ironic isn't it? I had to lose a limb in the most horrific way possible to gain inner strength. More proof that I'm a survivor... or a seriously screwed up individual. 

I have also come to realize that I may be a killer, but I'm not a murderer. There's a difference. Murder is the cold-blooded—or even hot-blooded—slaughter of innocents. Murder is a guy taking potshots at pedestrians from a bell tower, or releasing small pox infested bees on an elementary school playground. Murder is senseless and evil. Killing is necessary and has a certain logic to it, although I admit it may be faulty logic. A man, like Bill Mulder, who is about to endanger the lives of countless others just has to die sometimes. And on occasion, I have had to pull the trigger because I was ordered to do it, and my life would be forfeit if I didn't. Is that justifiable or am I rationalizing murder? I think, for the sake of my extremely shaky conscience, I'm not going to dwell on that one for too long. 

Suffice it to say, I'm not the bad guy I used to be, so maybe I deserve a little happiness now. If Mulder can provide that happiness, why shouldn't I go for it? 

* * *

_It belongs to us now  
We can endure   
No televisions   
No longer need to be cured   
And when we define it   
It seems to conclude   
It's right where we find it   
It's right beside you _

I watch him carefully, wondering what's going on in his head. I'm a profiler so it should be easy, right? It's not, though. _He's_ not easy. Not easy to read, or understand or... Whatever this thing is between us, it's not easy either. Maybe it could be, if we let it. This desire—the magnetic pull of attraction— is so strong that, if we can manage not to complicate it, this whatever-we've-got can work out. The outside world—my work, family, conspiracies, various alien factions— will be trying to pull us apart. If we figure out the dynamics of this whatever-we've-got, if we can define it, quantify it... I'm starting to sound like Scully and that is really scary. So if we can define it and say "Look what we have here. It's worth fighting for..." we can make it all work for whatever time we have left on this planet. 

I've been searching my entire life for something. Samantha, truth, acceptance... love? Could what I've been looking for have been right in front of me in slicked down hair and a cheap suit and I just didn't see it? And, by the time it wore black leather, I _couldn't_ see it? I wouldn't let myself look too closely, until I got a glimpse in my darkened apartment. I wasn't joking when I told Scully I was thinking about how to throw a curve ball. I'd just had one whiz by me that was worthy of the major leagues. 

The next time he came here, he threw a fast ball right over the plate, and I swung as hard as I could. I connected, but I'm still not sure whether it was a homerun or foul ball. Guess it's still up in the air. 

_Let's not find the weakness  
Push the bruise   
What good would it do   
Let's not drag out the details   
Salt the wound   
What good would it do? _

A line from the Lord's Prayer drifts through my mind, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us..." It makes a certain kind of sense in the middle of the night. What we need to do is forgive and, if not forget, at least start over. Now I have to try to convince him. He won't believe me if I say I forgive him. He's too cynical to believe that I might understand why he killed my father. I understand that he seemed to have no choice at the time, that he was under orders. Melissa is a little harder, but at least he didn't pull the trigger that would have ended Dana Scully's life if she'd been the one coming through that door instead of her sister. Rationalization is not so hard to do once you've been at it as long as I have. It's a family trait, could be genetic. 

Not so long ago, I would have been beating him up at the first thought of my father or Melissa or any of his countless other crimes. But I'm not nearly as angry as I used to be. A lot of it got burned out by fear and the enormity of that elusive truth—what exactly the big conspiracy was all about. After the incredible terror of being chased by an alien through a space ship in Antarctica, the sins of Alex Krycek just don't amount to as much as they used to. As the anger burned out, so has most of my grief, although the sadness, fear, and occasional moodiness are still hanging in there. That's normal. No one is happy all the time, even though I'm not sure I would classify myself as happy yet. Who knows? Maybe he can be the one that makes me happy. 

* * *

"Do you mind if I turn on a light?" 

"Maybe we're better suited to the dark. Sure, go ahead." 

"I'm glad you came back. I didn't know if you would." 

"I almost didn't. I guess I couldn't help myself. That file folder has a lot of information that I think you'll find useful." 

"We can talk about it later... if you're still here after what I have to say to you." 

"What is it? The other night was a mistake and you regret it deeply, right? Wish you'd never laid eyes on me, much less anything else?" 

"No. I wanted to tell you that I have forgiven you." 

"Forgiven me? For what?" 

"What do you want, a grocery list of grievances? For my father, mostly. If you killed him, it's all right. I think I understand why." 

"You...understand. You forgive me for killing your father. What's the catch, Mulder? You forgive me so I admit to doing it so you arrest me? Is that how you're going to get rid of me?" 

"No, Alex, look at me. Look me in the eye. I sincerely forgive you, _if_ you did it. This doesn't come easy, so please don't make it any harder than it has to be." 

"In that case, I forgive you for leaving me locked in that missile silo with the black oil alien and its ship." 

"But I didn't know you were in there when the Smoking Man's soldiers pulled us out. I would have gotten back in there somehow if I had known." 

"It's all right, Mulder, I know all that. I suspected it then, but it didn't stop me from hating you while I was in there." 

"Oh. Do you want to talk... about... you know... your arm?" 

"No. I no longer blame you for that either. I came to talk about the future." 

"Oh, yes, the file. I'll get right on it. I have all the resources of the X Files now so—" 

"Yes, yes, that's good, but I meant _our_ future. Possibly together?" 

"Do we have one? Is that what you want?" 

"Is it what you want?" 

"I think so. Can we make it work?" 

"Maybe. We can sure as hell try, right? And if it fails, well then, we'll survive, right? It's what we do." 

"Yeah, it's what we do." 

* * *

Rating: R for language   
Feedback: Any and all kinds appreciated [email removed]   
Warning: Songfic. I can't help it. They just speak to me!   
Spoilers: Apocrypha, Terma, The Red and the Black— just assume all Krycekisodes to be on the safe side.   
Disclaimers: The Boys belong to CC, 1013, Fox etc. The song "And" written by the Headstones (Hugh Dillon, Trent Carr, Tim White, and Dale Harrison) [Copyright 1996 Universal Music.] No profit comes from this venture, I swear. I'm just a fan—a poor unemployed fan.   
Notes: Deb is a fine first audience, and Nicole is a fine beta. Both are wonderful friends. Thanks, sweeties! :-)   
Summary: In a closely-related-but-not-quite-sequel to Physics, Krycek and Mulder do a little musing on their whatever-it-is.   
---


End file.
